


tonight is all about 'we miss you' (these friends are golden)

by nagatha_christie



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: (who still bang like it's their first time together), Blow Jobs, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Tension, harry just really fucking wants to get in nick's pants, he will fellate fine silver in public places, he will stop at NOTHING, it's not even funny anymore ya'll, like right now, livin the dream, painfully domestic boys, reluctant voice of reason nick, sexpot Harry, without shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagatha_christie/pseuds/nagatha_christie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick was halfway through his second glass of wine when their entrees arrived. He had been planning on leaving it for the meal, so he wouldn't seem like he was freeloading, but Harry had begun mouthing dirty words at him again, so Nick reckoned he deserved more of the expensive red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tonight is all about 'we miss you' (these friends are golden)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own them. Title belongs to Fall Out Boy's "Homesick at Space Camp".
> 
> I hope my fic makes you laugh, and flail a little. Or a lot.

Given all his excitement, it took Nick's entire supply of willpower to approach, not tackle, his jet-lagged Harry.

In the foyer, Harry held his bags with a weary smile, floral scarf keeping his hair from his eyes.

"Harry, sweetheart!" Nick shouted, urging the bags from Harry's hands and the pack from his shoulders. Harry couldn't even get a word in before Nick threw his arms around him and kissed his face all over.

"I missed you," Nick said with a crinkly-eyed grin.

"You can say _that_ again..."

"I missed you a lot, Harold. My favourite wee popstar."

"Heyyyy," Harry protested in a soft voice.

Nick pressed a kiss to his forehead, smoothed his messy curls.

"Shall we get you something to eat? A cup of tea? You look like death. A very beautiful and dishy death, but still fairly dead."

"Mm," Harry leaned his forehead against Nick's. He was leaning his weight on Nick, too. "That sounds lovely. I would do anything for a biscuit or some chips right now."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Harry smiled slow at Nick and kissed him again, proper. Longing.

"We will have to negotiate my reward later, then, seeing as I have both biscuits and chips and they're waiting for you on the table."

Harry sent Nick that grin he was famous for, and dashed to the kitchen. He plopped into a chair and wolfed down a biscuit and half a plate of chips before Nick had even started making the mugs of tea.

"Do you want Grey, Darjeeling, Ceylon, or Constant Comment?"

"Conshtant," Harry answered with his mouth full.

Nick laughed. He was smiling so big. Harry had been here two minutes and he'd already started filling in the cracks he’d left behind.

Some had been small and occasional pangs: tea for one, a missing toothbrush, the smell of a favorite jumper. Others were glaring, ones Nick had faced every day: the untouched side of the bed, the scrawl absent from their whiteboards, the suspicious neatness that had fallen over the flat.

Nick didn't say much as he let the tea stand and added milk to it. He didn't want to overwhelm Harry, since the bomb he had to drop was plenty overwhelming. Besides, he knew Harry would start talking when he was ready, and when he did, it would be like a torrent no one could stop.

Nick put a cup of tea in front of Harry and sat on the bench opposite him. They had a bloody _breakfast nook_. It was probably Nick's favourite feature of the flat. They had gotten so domestic that their mates threatened -- fairly regularly -- to stop coming by if they didn’t tone down all the talk of curtain sizes and fine art and paint colours.

"None for you?" Harry looked concerned.

"I had enough caffeine today," Nick said, leaning onto his elbows.

Harry shrugged and sprinkled sugar into his tea.

"So did you sit next to anyone fit on the plane?" Nick had that gossipy tone to his voice.

"Not unless you count Liam, who almost got into a fight with the flight attendant and then snored on my shoulder the rest of the way."

"Oh, no." But Nick wasn't very surprised. Liam's behaviour _had_ been a bit strange lately. Nick's personal opinion was that the person who kept a handle on Liam had gone on holiday. Or had simply given up.

"Wasn't really anyone's fault -- we were all kind of stroppy from the 6AM wake up call." Harry shrugged again. Nick knew he was covering for Liam by grouping them all together.

"She wouldn't give him a Bloody Mary 'cause he didn't have his passport on his person, he got mad, 'do you know who I am' and all that. You know." Harry shifted in his seat.

"Didn't take Liam for a day drinker." Nick smirked.

"He isn't really, but all the way to the airport he was half-asleep and he kept going on about how much he wanted one. Then Louis punched him on the shoulder and he stopped."

Harry took a sip of tea, pinky-out. He had more colour in his cheeks now, looked quite angelic in the light from the window. Nick reached out and rubbed Harry's arm, ran a palm over his hand.

"Is that a new one?" Nick realised aloud. He regarded the new ink with trepidation.

"Maybe." Harry was being coy about it.

Nick squinted. In small letters Nick saw...his initials? On Harry's left ring finger? _Was he hallucinating?_

"I got it done on one of the off days. Kind of on a whim."

"Does this mean we have to get married now?" Nick drawled. He was blushing a little, pleased.

"One day. In like, a long long time. And only if you still want." Harry said, like was no big deal, but he was totally faking his nonchalance. He confirmed that when he looked down and grinned.

“I would be a fool not to,” Nick said, leaning over the table and kissing Harry.

"Harry, love," Nick said when they parted and settled back down. "D'you remember when we met Gavin Rossdale and Gwen Stefani at London Fashion Week, and they were so charmed by you, and they said you were just the sweetest little button?" Or was it moppet? Nick trailed off and thought about that for a second.

Harry was staring at him, confused but trying to follow.

"And how they insisted on taking us to dinner, and you gave Gwen your assistant's number? And your assistant and their assistant made arrangements?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, er…” Nick made an apologetic face. “That dinner is tonight."

Harry's mouth dropped open, like he was in a cartoon.

"Are you having a laugh?"

"Would I make up something like this?"

"Yes, Grimmy, yes you would!" Harry was near-hysterics.

"I'm serious. They're sending a car for us at 8."

"They're -- what? Babe, what are you even saying?"

"We have plans with Gavin and Gwen and Daisy toni--"

"No, I know what you're _saying._ I just don't understand. How come I didn't know? How come you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want to overwhelm you when you were on the plane. Sulky, like you said. And I was waiting for the right moment."

"The right moment?!" Harry stood up, palms flat on the table. Then he sat back down. He looked crestfallen.

"Grim, I -- I can't." He sighed. "You know I can't. I just got back and I'm tired and I'm pale and I need to rest. And I really wanted a night in with you tonight. Chocolates. Maybe a bath. One of those silly gay independent films you like so much."

Nick almost smiled at the thought, but he couldn't let even the slightest crack show.

"We'll have to reschedule."

"You don't just _reschedule_ on Gwen and Gavin at the last second!"

Harry screwed his face up in thought.

"Daisy's Gavin's daughter, right? Can't she just pass on the message? Or something?"

"If I cancel tonight, Daisy will never let me hear the end of it."

"Oh, I'm sure she'd forget in about fifteen years or so."

"They took time out of their schedule to make plans with us. We can't just give them a bell when it's convenient for us and expect them to drop everything again. Besides, it's not like they live in London and we could just drop by anytime."

Harry was silent for a moment.

"I just. I don't want to be a spectacle tonight. All those eyes in all those stadiums, everyone's always staring, screaming, wanting something. Wanting me."

"Oh, Harry." Nick took Harry's free hand. "I'm sure they can be discreet about it. They know what they're doing. No one's gonna jump on a table and scream and point us out and gather 10,000 paparazzos."

"Especially not you."

"I will try my best."

Harry kicked him under the table.

"I'm sure we can be seated in the back or something. Most we'll get is a mention in the paper."

"All right," Harry said. "But I'm wearing jeans, and don't you try to stop me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

\--

"No, no, hell no, bloody hell no, kill it with fire no," Nick murmured as he rummaged through the closet. He wished he'd never thought to put his designer t-shirts on hangers. Half of them were on the floor, anyway, which made it the single worst idea he'd ever had. That, and the four pairs of shiny platform Converse. Nick held one up and grimaced. _Had he ever worn those? Any of them?_

Nick ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time, frustrated.

Harry looked serene in contrast. He had a few shirts draped over his arm, surely only pretending he was having an easier time finding something decent in their mess of a closet.

Or else he knew exactly what he wanted, which would have been plain insulting, because Harry was the sort of person who agonized over what ice cream flavour to pick. (Just the other day, he had decided on Neopolitan. And then stuck his tongue out when Nick said that was the exact opposite of choosing, and that he had enough money to buy out the store if he wanted. Then Harry realised that option also helped him avoid having to choose in the future, and he considered it.)

Logically, there should have been enough space. The closet rod they had was sizeable, and they had a smaller room for odds and ends. But it felt like the closet was getting smaller and more cluttered every day.

"Remind me to get Alexa over here to help me organize this, like, as soon as possible." _Why the hell did they have so many trench coats? Trench coats went out in ‘09, if they were ever even in style._

"Why can't I help?"

Nick turned to look at him.

"Every time you go away, I have to repack your suitcase beforehand, because you can't be bothered to fold anything."

"That was one time."

"It's been at least four times."

"All right,” Harry sighed. “We’ll bring Alexa over."

Even the gentle clink of the hangers seemed to be mocking Nick.

"You have to admit, what I lack in technique I make up for in taste." Harry held up a lime green v-neck jumper.

"That's well nice." But Nick didn't sound or feel very enthused, and he went back to comparing leather jackets. _How on earth would they have ended up with_ three _identical jackets?_

"Most of this clutter is yours," Nick said huffily. "You get all the free designer things."

"That's a bad thing all've a sudden?"

"Well, if you get a package of eight tops, wear one of them and then put aside the rest and forget about them, it makes a mess after a while. That's how physics works."

"Hey, you have more coats than I do. Those take up more space."

"You have more jeans than I have coats, so your point is invalid."

"You have like three _hundred_ pairs of trainers."

"There must be eighty hats in here!"

"You -- you keep all of your shoe boxes!"

Harry pointed out a precarious stack right next to Nick.

"Not all of them!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"More than you _need._ Even _I_ know you don't need a billion shoe boxes."

"You have ten thousand scarves," Nick snapped.

"Oh, do I?"

Nick reached down and threw a handful of silky scarves at Harry, who managed to catch some of them.

"Let's see. One...Two...Three... Definitely at least _eight_ here."

Harry's tone of voice made Nick crack. He sounded like he was doing an impression of Nick's dad, counting out change at the grocery.

Nick started laughing.

"Help me find something to wear, Hazza." He got on his knees, surrounded by heaps of clothing. "I'm helpless, without your intuition. Nothing without your infinite wisdom."

"Hmm. Groveling accepted."

Harry gave Nick a hand up.

"I want to be formal, but not too formal, you know? Because I don't know where we're going, but sometimes it's better to be overdressed? Because you can be overdressed and take something off, but if you're underdressed you don't have any options. I s'pose you could get more underdressed, like in your undershirt and pants, but that's probably frowned upon in a restaurant. Right?"

Harry wasn't paying much attention, plucking things out every so often and scrutinizing them. He held up a pair of leather trousers.

" _Yes_ ," He said, grinning wickedly.

" _Give me those_ ," Nick said. "No, no way."

"Leather is timeless..." Harry sang.

"I prob'ly outgrew them a long long time ago..." Nick sang back. "Maybe I'll try them on for you later. Preferably while intoxicated."

"Awesome."

"You know, this does cast a bit of a doubt on your judgment,” Nick said, folding the trousers and putting them back down.

"You don't trust me?"

"No, not really."

Harry swatted his chest and went back to work.

It took a few more minutes for Harry to locate one of Nick's most expensive suits, mixed in with his others. It still had the plastic on it from the last time he got it dry-cleaned.

"I can sniff out a Burberry anywhere," Harry said, admiring the suit. It was grey Italian wool with a checked pattern. A fucking beautiful suit. "No questions, you're wearing that."

"But with what?"

"Give me thirty seconds and I'll have the answer, love."

The shirt Harry came up with was simple, wine-colored with short sleeves, so Nick wouldn't get stuffy. Harry chose a black satin jacket for himself, and a subtle blue paisley shirt for underneath. The jeans he planned on wearing were so tight it was honest-to-God rude, and Nick kind of wanted to peel them off him right there in the closet. But there would be plenty of time for that later, and besides, it generally took them a combined forty-five minutes for their hair, so it wasn't like they could spare the time. As Nick kept reminding Harry, the car was set to show up at eight sharp.

\--

They arrived at The Ivy, a place rich with history that Nick had only read of it. Nick was grateful that the stained-glass windows made paparazzi photos impossible, and he was certain Harry was, too.

A woman in an elegant dark pantsuit greeted them with a warm smile.

"We're with the Rossdale party," Nick said. He thought he must have been radiant with happiness.

"Right this way," She said.

As they followed her into the dining room, Nick turned to look at Harry. Nick could tell Harry was taking it all in.

"Pretty bleeding posh," Nick whispered.

There were famous people at every close-set table, and Nick recognized almost everyone they passed. Brooke Vincent and Michelle Keegan engaged in a serious-looking conversation over their meals. Lauryn Hill and Cee-Lo Green laughing over cocktails and salads. Jennifer Aniston and Justin Thoreau sharing an exquisite-looking entree. Idris Elba, Chris Hemsworth, and Tom Hiddleston squeezed into one of the room's only booths. Tori Amos and her husband ruffling their daughter's hair while she rolled her eyes. Nick almost swooned over Jake Shears, someone whose work, beauty, and fashion statements he'd followed for years. He even saw the girls from The Saturdays, but they were sans Rochelle, so he resisted the urge to greet them. Nick did wave at the guys from Fun., who were sitting with Rachel Antonoff. He'd interviewed them once early on in both their careers.

"Everyone's so much older than me," Harry said. He was pressed against Nick's side, smiling and nodding at anyone who glanced up at him. He seemed tense, like he was undercover and waiting for his true identity to be revealed.

"You'll be a smash. You always are."

At last they reached the back, where Gwen's platinum updo gave her table away.

"Here you are," Their host said.

Harry and Nick thanked her, and then turned their attention toward Gwen and Daisy, who had stood up.

Daisy had that grin on her face Nick loved so much.

"Grimmy!" Daisy threw her arms around his neck, and Nick hugged her back. "Ello! You all right?" She asked in greeting.

"Quite well, and you?" Nick said as Daisy hugged Harry.

"Lovely!" Daisy said, spinning around.

"You look lovely as well." Daisy was wearing a big floppy hat and a red top with a Peter Pan collar. She had paired her top with a flouncy short blue skirt, tights with little dots, and platform wedges that put her at Nick's height. "You've got the bits that are twee and the bits that are sexy and va-va-voom, and you do it so bloody effortlessly."

"It's kind of what I've built my career on. Well, more the va-va-voom," Daisy admitted, laughing and kissing him on the cheek.

"A kiss, too, is this my lucky day?"

"Of course it is. Now come, come. Let me introduce you."

"Nick, Harry, hi -- it's so nice to see you again." Gwen smiled big and warm, and she hugged Nick and Harry tightly.

"Lovely to see you again, Miss Stefani." Harry said. _Always so polite, jesus. Gentleman in the streets and a beast in the bed._

"Oh, call me Gwen. I'm sorry Gav isn't here yet. He was supposed to come with me but he had a little emergency and told me to go on without him. He should be here soon."

"I do hope so," Harry said.

"Don't you look right sharp," Nick gushed. He couldn't help it. She was such an icon. All the rumors were true: there was, in fact, an aura of effortless cool around her.

Gwen was stunning in a black crop top and a high-waisted, flared leather skirt. Her duster jacket had military-inspired brass buttons, and she was killing with her pointy white pumps. It was the kind of outfit only Gwen and her fabulous abs could pull off, and she did with flying colours.

"Thank you so much," Gwen said. "And I just _love_ seeing you and Harry together in the magazines. Even when you're dressed totally different, you seem in-sync somehow. Like you're leaned in toward each other, or wearing complimentary colours."

"That is," Nick said, trying to repress the biggest grin that had ever graced his face, "a brilliant thing to say, and is such a major compliment, coming from you."

"He'll be talking about it for weeks," Harry said.

"Shall we sit down?" Daisy asked.

"Absolutely," Nick said.

They were at one of two six-person tables, and Daisy sat next to Nick while Harry sat across from him, beside Gwen.

"Do you come here often?" Nick asked. For once, he wasn't quite sure how to get to where he wanted to be, conversationally. He wanted to ask Gwen so many things. How hard it was to wear all the figurative hats she did. Or if it wasn't hard at all, and Gwen was actually Superwoman. He wanted to know what it was like to be revered by so many. If she ever had days where she wanted to throw in the towel and go live in a cave. How she knew Gavin was the one worth fighting for. And all of that was a bit heavy for small talk.

"Gav and I like it a lot. We try to visit a few times a year, whenever we're in London."

"They took me with them last time -- the food and the service was marvelous," Daisy said.

"And the company, I'm sure. I feel like I'm on the A-list," Nick said, probably too loud.

"I know," Daisy said. "You'd think we might be bored of it by now."

"I could never be," said Nick.

A waitperson dressed in black came over and handed them the first of two dinner menus. The font was swirly, and it was the sort of place that kept the prices off the menu, which was kind of disconcerting. _What if Harry accidentally ordered the most expensive thing? Hell, what if Nick himself did?_

Nick was in awe of how picturesque Gwen was, simply reading. He got the same feeling sometimes -- okay, _fine,_ most of the time -- he was around Harry, watching Harry chop vegetables, pick out shoes, make a grocery list.

Even with just the first course menu, the repertoire was overwhelming, and everything sounded scrummy. Nick couldn't pronounce half the hors d'oeuvres, so he focused on what was familiar, selecting the beef carpaccio with asparagus and figs, something he had enjoyed at some swanky BBC event.

He was floored when Harry ordered a foreign-sounding dish and seemed to pronounce it properly, since the person who took their orders just nodded and jotted it down. Gwen ordered a bottle of wine for them all to share.  

"When did you learn Spanish?" Nick couldn't hold it back.

"You learn a lot when you travel the world," Harry said.

"Oooh, cheeky," Daisy teased. They all laughed.

"No, um, when we were over in South America, we did an interview at a place where everything was in Spanish, so we all closed our eyes and picked something. And I got this, and it was great, so. I bet it's even better here."

"Just don't go growing up too much without me," Nick said, mostly joking.

"Soon he'll be smarter than you," Daisy teased.

"If he isn't already," Nick said.

"Sometimes I’m convinced my kids think they have a leg up on me," Gwen said. "Like how my older boys have been picking up new, colorful swear words lately. I suspect it's from Gavin, but of course he won't admit it. Kings and Zoom think I don't know British swear words, and I'm just like, 'I know what _bollocks_ means, guys'." Gwen laughed. "And then there are the ones like _ring-snatcher_ or _cottaging_ , where I hear ‘em saying them and giggling and I have to assume they're up to no good."

Nick choked on his water.

Daisy covered her mouth, trying to hide her shrieking laughter, and then clapped him on the back during his hacking fit.

"That is -- Yes. Those are curse words." Nick managed between smaller coughs into his napkin. His face was turning red.

"Some of my favourites, actually." Harry said, grinning.

Harry wasn't exactly helping Nick's ability to breathe. _If I die, it'll be your fucking fault, Styles._

"And I mean, they're six and eight, I'm sure they haven't a clue about what they're saying. I'm sure Gav hasn't, like, told them,” Gwen said.

"Oh, thank _God_ ," Nick nearly shouted, clapping his hand on his chest, near his windpipe. It was a dramatic gesture, but it was either that or keeling onto the floor.

"How are they with American curse words?" Harry asked.

" _Very_ well-versed," Gwen said wryly. "I feel like there are fewer variations with American swear words, and that’s why they picked 'em up so quickly."

As she talked, Harry took a sip of wine, eyeing Nick over his glass. He mouthed one slow word, _fuck._

Nick didn't hear any of what Gwen said after that. He heard tones and background noise, but no substance. All of it paled in relation to Harry.

Which was unfortunate, because Gwen turned to him next, looking expectant.  

"I'm uh, I'm sure they know when you're around they have to keep a cap on the uh. Rude words. You keep them in line," Nick said, offering a tentative smile.

He just wouldn't look at Harry the rest of the night. That would be what he would have to do. It would be fine. It would all be fine as long as he didn't look at Harry anymore. Ever.

"Yeah, exactly. But when Gavin's taking care of them, watch out. All hell breaks loose. I imagine half of LA thinks we're raising a bunch of pirates."

"My mum used to wash my mouth out with soap," Harry said. "That was her solution."

"When did she stop?" Daisy asked.

"She hasn't yet." Harry laughed.

 _I hope she never will,_ Nick thought.

"See, my house was so different. My mum was totally ace with whatever I wanted. I s'pose 'cause she expected a miniature version of herself, anything else was fair game," Daisy said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Your mum was quite the wild one," Nick said, nudging her.

"Yep." Daisy let out a weak laugh.

Nick realised what he'd made a twit move, even though everyone at the table knew of Daisy's mum, and about their relationship.

"She's so great," Nick said, and meant it.

"She's lovely. We have so much fun together. Hey, did I ever tell you how she was supposed to introduce me to Michael Kors at this party?"

"No, I don't think so." Nick's brow furrowed. “Did she?”

“No, but he's right over there."

"You’re joking."

Daisy pointed, and with varying levels of discreetness, they all turned to look.

"I'm trying to be cool," she whispered. "I'm not sure if I should go introduce myself."

"Of course you should! You're Daisy bleedin' Lowe!"

"You should," Gwen said. "I've never met anyone who didn't love compliments on their work."

"Will you come with me, Grimmy?"

"Me? Oh, no, I couldn't. I'm not -- spiritually, spiritually I'm not prepared."

Daisy laughed and slapped his shoulder.

"Rubbish! Such rubbish!"

"When he had to meet Pharrell, I had to help psych him up for like twenty minutes," Harry put in.

"And even with all that, I was still shaking in my shoes," Nick said.

"Pharrell is just the nicest guy, though, isn't he?" Gwen said. "Such a pleasure to work with."

 

"The coolest, oh my God. He kept ribbing me as we were talking, and I was trying to be smooth and like, not faint, but inside I was shrieking," Nick said.

"True story," Harry said. "I was a witness."

"A lot of the people I interview get sort of, er -- _overwhelmed_ by me, but he totally kept up. It was wonderful,” Nick said, grinning.

"Alright," Daisy said, pushing her chair out with a flourish. "I'm ready. I'm going to go over there."

"Yeah!" Nick said. "Go meet Michael Kors!"

Daisy shushed him.

"Why am I mates with such a _deafening_ human being?"

"Because I'm adorable."

Daisy sighed, smiling.

"True. But Harry's cuter."

"He has youth on his side! You're being ageist right now -- I'm going to call the Age Police!"

Daisy shushed him again.

"Better go now, before I lose my nerve," she said.

Nick cheered her on again, quieter, as she flounced off.

\--

When their food arrived ten minutes later, Nick realised Harry had ordered some kind of quinoa soup. He felt silly for assuming it was a complicated dish.

"Harry, you were just on tour, weren't you?"  Gwen asked, spoon poised over her shellfish bisque.

Nick beamed as much as if the question had been about him.

"Yeah, we did a bit of Europe, Berlin and Amsterdam, and Milan, and a load of other cities. We ended in Lisbon. It was mad fun. Crazy, but really incredible," Harry said.

"I love Milan. I always found their crowds to be especially welcoming," Gwen said.

"They were lovely, yeah."

"Is touring stressful for you and the guys?"

"You mean, like -- do we have rows and stuff?"

"Yeah." Gwen nodded.

"Between us, we're really close. There isn't any drama, except when someone hides Zayn's fifteen bottles of hair spray. Which happens more than you might think." Harry laughed.

"Poor Zayn," Daisy said. "He does get so serious about his hairdos."

Harry took a spoonful of his soup, and then let out a sound that made Nick freeze.

It was a little gasp of pleasure. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to draw Nick's attention.

"I love those boys. They're so incredibly talented," Harry said, as if nothing had happened. "I can't imagine being in a band with anyone but them. Which sounds bloody silly, but it's true."

"No, I totally understand," Gwen said. "I got to choose my bandmates, of course, but still, I think I felt that way once we were together with a solid lineup, the one we've had since the nighties.  Like these were the only guys I wanted around me."

"And we're, like, _so_ open with each other? On tour we would all sit down together and jam, but mostly with words. Talking about our experiences and our families and tossing lyrics around. Try to make something of what we're feeling. Help each other with it. And it's just -- it's ace to be so close to people," Harry said.

"Tony and I have a friendship like that. He knows everything about me,"  Gwen said.

"Sometimes it's like we feel things as a group. Like if someone's gutted, we all are. Even Niall, who's usually the one who makes us all feel better."

"Band of brothers?"

"Exactly."

Gwen nodded and then spoke.

"Even though I was the one making sure the boys in my band didn't have too many vices, treated women well...I never really felt different. They never treated me like I was delicate or did the whole white-knight thing. Part of it was probably because they always knew Gav was around for that, but I think we just really got and still do understand each other in a way that transcends those external things. It was like I was one of them."

"This is only a _bit_ similar, but...The boys never make a fuss about the Nick thing. Like -- they don't all adore him, but no one treats me strange. Nothing's weird. The teasing's just different, I guess." Harry spooned some more soup into his mouth.

Nick had been so caught up in listening to the conversation, he'd managed to forget about his dick, growing hard in his trousers.

And then Harry fucking did it again. A moan this time, closing his eyes. Anyone watching would have thought he was just very vocal about enjoying fine food. But Daisy was focused on her salmon and avocado salad, and Gwen on her soup.

Nick had hardly touched his plate.

"You should really try this, Grim," Harry said, a caricature of helpfulness. "So good." He held his spoon out.

_Fuck your helpfulness._

Nick didn't want to take it, but he did, forcing down the soup. It really was good.

"Kind of like chili," Nick said.

"Nice and hot," Harry offered, innocent as a fucking saint. This was getting ridiculous.

"Hey, if you like hot, I think there's a chicken breast with salsa on the entree list." Daisy said.

"Cheers, Daisy. I'll have to order that." Harry's tone was too bright, like a goddamn sunflower. He nudged Nick's ankle, smirking.

Daisy glanced over at Nick's plate.

"You're not hungry?"

"No, I just -- I was listening, and -- I kind of forgot to eat." It sounded dumb once he said it. He had to compensate now, eating his food as quickly as he could while still being polite.

"D'you think we could get another bottle of wine?" Daisy asked.

"Of course." Gwen motioned to the nearest waitperson, and ordered another bottle.

Nick was grateful; he'd drained his glass after the quinoa soup, and he had a feeling he would need a lot more to get through the evening.

\--

The waitperson came back a few minutes later with their fresh bottle, their second-course menus, and Gavin.

Gavin wore a loose white shirt with a vest over it, and had clearly coordinated with Gwen, since he was wearing leather trousers. A fact that Harry was all too keen to smugly whisper at him.

_"Look at his trousers, I fucking told you."_

_"Shut up, Harold."_

"Good to see you," Gavin said as he came up behind Nick. When they shook hands, Nick prayed Gavin hadn't overheard anything.

"Just in time for the second course," Daisy said, giving Gavin a hug before he sat down.

Gavin took the chair at the head of the table, turning it a bit so he was facing more toward Gwen. He was close enough that she could hold his arm as they looked at their menus.

"This is such a beautiful place, thank you for having us," Harry said.

"Of course. Thank you for being patient. I had a bit of a band situation."

"It feels like he's on call sometimes," Gwen said.

"This one always has some mate in a crisis," Harry said, grinning at Nick.

Gwen and Gavin murmured amongst themselves, pointing at entrees on each other's menus. It was like it was their world and Nick, Harry, and Daisy were just living in it.

Harry ordered the chicken breast Daisy had suggested, because he was an arsehole.

Nick requested the chicken korma, but in all truthfulness, he'd chosen rather arbitrarily, because he wasn't hungry anymore. Not for food.

And then Gavin kissed Gwen. With tongue. At the table.

_Wow, um, okay._

Gavin seemed to realise he had made a questionable choice, because he turned to them with endearing little-boy guilt.

"I apologise, I haven't seen this woman all day and it feels like a year," Gavin said.

The world was a cruel joke. Nick was so done.

He just wanted to fuck Harry against a table. Any table. He wasn't picky. _Was that too much to ask?_

"I'm sure you can relate. It must be hard being away as much as you are," Gwen said to Harry. Her tone was so sympathetic, Nick softened, despite himself, hackles no longer raised.

"It's...It gets very hard. Sometimes I question the position I'm in, but at the end of the day I know I'm part of something bigger than myself. I can't bow out, even if I wanted to. I don't really have that opportunity,” Harry said in his deliberate way, shrugging. “So I'm lucky in a way, that we're all in the same position and can confide in one another, which helps an extraordinary amount.

"It's the absolute worst being away from Nick. But, you know, there are ways. We text quite a bit, and FaceTime sometimes. If I can, I listen to his show, and send him a million annoying texts with all my opinions on the music he plays. I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but I dunno, it makes you appreciate the time you have."

"Early on in our relationship, when we were flying transcontinental all the time, that was exactly what we held onto," Gavin said. "And it was brutal, but we came out stronger."

"It made me love him so much more when I realised that every time we got to see each other, it was just like a continuation of the previous time. That was when I knew we had something, you know?" Gwen said.

"Is it still like that?" Daisy asked, voice gentle.

"These days, I go out on tour, and when I come back, it's like I haven't been gone at all," Gwen said, smiling.

"Do your families live in London?" Gavin asked.

"No, mine lives in Holme's Chapel. When I'm back for a bit, I try and go there to visit them. My sister travels, though, so she comes 'round sometimes," Harry said.

"My family's practically adopted Harry," Nick said. "Everytime I go over to them in Manchester and Harry isn't with me, my dad is like, 'where's 'arry? Are you hiding 'im? I've some hand-me-downs to give 'im, and some ancient folk songs for 'im to learn.' And my mum is disappointed, too, because she always makes the food he likes. There’s disappointment all around when Harry doesn’t come.”

"I do want to come, but I'm just not always able to," Harry said. "I don't beg off and then go out with my mates or anything.That would be awful."

Gwen and Gavin exchanged a look. They laughed, but Gavin looked guilty again.

"I've done that before," Gavin said, sheepish.

"He did that so often that after we were engaged and living together, I threatened to break off the engagement."

"Let me clarify, these were not life-changing events. They were baby showers, graduation parties, and a stag party."

"Did you threaten to break off the engagement because you wondered what man would possibly refuse a stag party?" Nick asked.

Gwen laughed hard, her shoulders shaking.

"I didn't know the er, stag, very well," Gavin explained.

Gwen rolled her eyes.

"In any case, he's gone to every baby shower and stag party since then."

"Now I know how to keep Harry in line," Nick said.

"Don't give him any ideas," Daisy said.

\--

Nick was halfway through his second glass of wine when their entrees arrived. He had been planning on leaving it for the meal, as to not seem like he was freeloading, but Harry had begun mouthing dirty words at him again, so Nick reckoned he deserved more of the expensive red.

Nick had found that the better solution was not to fake it, but to nod a lot at whoever was talking, and to pray that no one asked him a question. Like in school. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that he had found a solution quite so quickly.

Gavin rubbed his hands together in anticipation of his shepard's pie. Tipsy Nick found this hilarious, biting his lip against laughter.

"Gwen, I have a question for you," Nick said. Even though Gwen had bloody cursed in his presence, Nick had still been shy of direct questions. He had decided to not be shy anymore. "You have your fingers in so -- so many pies. You are so many things to so many people. Does it ever get a bit overwhelming? Mind-boggling?”

"I think I thrive in that kind of environment, actually. I've come to learn that I enjoy being a lot of things, and doing a lot of things. I'm a mom and a wife, and there's music and fashion, and PR to take care of and the fashion lines I have to oversee.

"But there are also these other roles you might not think of as roles. There’s also the person I am inherently. And on the other side of the spectrum, there's all the characters I play onstage. When I'm onstage, I feel like I'm embodying as many shades of myself as there are songs on the setlist. I've always loved playing a character, so it's even more fun playing ones who are the 'me' I want to be. Or the 'me' I used to be, or the 'me' I hope I never become.

"All of this is work, but it made me realise that the term 'labor of love' isn't just something people say. It's lots of work, but it's all work dear to my heart and even the hard days are bearable that way." Gwen punctuated this with a smile, and long sip from her glass.

Gavin squeezed her hand.

"You're so right," Daisy said. "When I was small, I never thought I'd be modeling full-time, but it's what I've wound up doing for almost half my life. Which is mad to think about. The whole thing is just mad, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

"I've been making up personas for years, and like -- that was how I managed Playboy, and everything else where I wore pretty much nothing but a smile. If that, even!" Daisy laughed. "I think it became a way of compartmentalizing for me. A coping mechanism, almost."

"I agree. I also think that performing songs as my alter-egos sort of let me express my feelings while distancing them from myself," Gwen said.

"It's fascinating to hear other perspectives," Harry said. "See, I'm always around the other blokes and we've all only written as ourselves, our experiences. No shields of sorts. That's been happening more and more, since we've become more involved in the process.

"But before this, when nearly everything was written for us, something I did quite enjoy was getting to be a megaphone, almost, for people different than I was. Because I'm not necessarily going to go to a pub to chat someone up, I'm such a idiot when it comes to that --"

"But he did manage to snag me," Nick put in.

"That's 'cause you're two birds of a feather," Daisy said, laughing.

"And yet I get to sing for people who might do actually do that. We get to sing these songs and represent people's experiences that aren't necessarily our own. It's like anyone who listens can relate to at least one song, which I think is very cool," Harry said.

"I think that's the secret of why One Direction is so huge," Gavin said.

"Absolutely," Gwen agreed.

Harry nodded.

"It'll be an interesting experiment to see if things will change once we're only speaking for ourselves, for us five," Harry said.

"'Course I'm no expert, but I could see it going either way. You may well have a more narrow range in your new music, but you also may endear yourselves to the silly naysayers who complain about your having songwriters. I can't see you going away anytime soon, regardless," Gavin said.

"Tell me, are you and the other boys writing constantly?" Gwen asked. "Gavin and I have this ongoing argument about whether it's more authentic to write for an album, a lot at one time, or to be constantly involved in something."

"So that when it comes time to work on the next album, you only have to shape what you've already been working on," Gavin added.

"You can see what side _he's_ on." Gwen laughed.

"Um, we all seem to have different ways? Lou’s been writing ever since he was little, so he’s used to it, but like -- me and Zayn never needed that as an outlet. Since I started, though, it’s been quite helpful. And also totally infuriating sometimes.” Harry laughed. “I carry a notebook ‘round with me and everything.”

“You’d think he was guarding the Crown Jewels or something. He’s so sneaky about it,” Nick said.

“All part of the creative process,” Gavin said.

“He gets me,” Harry said, laughing.

“Kindred souls,” Daisy said.

“We'd best eat before our food gets chilly,” Harry said. He seemed to be the only one in the group who had noticed. Everyone turned to their plates as if the food had been invisible.

They all ate for a moment in silence, except for the buzz of conversation around them and the smooth jazz underscoring it.

As Nick ate, he was grateful that Harry had reminded them all about their entrees. And then he remembered the soup incident.

 _Oh, Christ,_ Nick thought. A deep sense of dread set in.

Despite his reluctance, Nick looked up at Harry, knowing that he would have to do it eventually.  

Harry seemed to be in slow motion. Like he was in a fucking porno. No. Harry _was_ the porno.

_For the love of all that was holy._

The fork held Harry's full attention as he ran his tongue up and down the already-clean tines. He put the fork between his teeth, grazing it along his full lower lip. With his eyes closed, he sucked on the side, licking halfway down the handle and back.

Nick couldn't make this shit up.

He couldn't look away. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

_Was no one else seeing this?_

Harry must have had pity on Nick, because he put down the fork. He pushed some salsa around on his plate, smudged some hummus onto bread. He cut some chicken, spearing it with an unadulterated fork.

Perhaps Harry had learned his lesson, had realised he'd best start using his silverware in the intended way. The people here probably didn't take kindly to people fellating their silverware. Nick hoped they didn't, anyway.

But after he brought the food to his mouth, Harry tilted his head back and let out another small moan. He turned toward Nick with sultry eyes. He was staring, biting his lip over and over and taking his sweet time about it.

"Excuse us for a moment," Nick said tightly, pushing out his chair with force.

Harry followed him to the loo, smirking.

_Dumbarse. This was all his stupid goddamn fault._

Nick made sure the door to the lounge was closed before he spoke. He was lightheaded with visions of Harry's mouth.

"What the bleeding _hell_ are you doing? I can't go a minute without seeing you and those bedroom eyes!"

"I can't _help_ myself, Grimmy."

Harry's voice held no shame. Not even a sliver.

"So you're doing it on purpose."

"Of course I'm doing it on purpose."

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Haz, this isn't funny!"

"Come on, it's at least a _little_ funny."

"It isn't! Not a bit!"

"Well, I've been enjoying it enough for the both of us. Love seeing you hot and bothered."

"Wait, that was your _plan_? To get me in here and shag me?"

"That was my best-case scenario, yes."

Harry moved closer, slipped two fingers in the waistband of Nick's trousers.

"Har _ry!_ We can't _do_ anything!"

Nick made a mildly disgusted face.

"Why _not_?" Harry groaned. "Not even a blowjob? I'm going _crazy_ over here."

"Are you _mad_?"

Harry made a whiny noise.

"But it's been a _month_. Which is like a year in sex time. Or not-having-sex time, because that's what it really is."

"Didn't _I_ say that to you?"

"Yeah, you texted it to me right before you had some Chardonnay and wanked off to _Why Don't We Go There_."

"Not sure I remember that."

"Well, you were prob'ly smashed. 'Cause then you tried to snapchat me pictures of your dick and they were very blurry."

"Sounds like something I would do, actually."

"And when you're sober, they're quite clear. Your dick pics."

Talking about dicks brought Nick's mind back to _his_ dick, which Harry's hand was dangerously close to.

"Ugh, no, Harry, we can't. This place is so classy, we can't _defile_ it. That would be rude."

"And that's ever stopped you before."

Harry held Nick's gaze, pressing the heel of his hand against Nick's crotch, and god, Nick was going to kill Harry one of these days.

"This place is carpeted. Nice carpet. And expensive marble. I don't want to get anything on it."

"I'm sure it's not the first time that's happened, a place like this."

"What if someone hears us?"

"All the little rooms, or stalls, whatever -- They're empty."

"Well, what if someone walks in?"

"You're a famous bloke getting blown in the loo." Harry did one unimpressed jazz hand. He still wasn't letting go of Nick's trousers, and Nick's face was growing hot.

"My quiff would get all messy."

"You'll hold it up. And you probably have some extra gel in your pocket."

"They'll know."

"Like they don't already."

"No, I mean. My face gets red sometimes. Kind of blotchy. You know that."

"Say it's the wine."

Harry raised his eyebrows as if to say, "anything else?" His lips were parted, pupils blown. He had switched his focus from titillation to logistics, trying to undo Nick's zipper. It would be so fucking easy to take Harry into one of those rooms, let him drop to his knees and remind Nick of his mouth's best talent. Or maybe even skip the privacy part. Maybe let him push Nick down onto one of the plush couches, climb on top of him and...

"No," Nick said.

"No?" Harry's disappointment was almost palpable.

"It's too risky. And there's my face, and the fancy loo, and the public...I don't want to. Not here."

"But _why_?"

Nick knew how bloody hard it was to make decisions with your brain, not your knob, so he wasn't annoyed about the carrying-on. But he had just given Harry like fifteen decent reasons why not, so he didn't think fifteen more were necessary.

Instead, he took Harry's hand from his trousers, held his wrist and brought him closer.

"When we get back, we can do everything you want." He got close to Harry's ear, whispered things like _we can try shagging in the shower again_ , and _I bought some new flavoured lube_ , and _you can fuck me however you like, promise._

"Fine," Harry said, still sulky.

Nick kissed Harry's jaw, right under his ear, knowing it would make him laugh and gasp at the same time.

"Okay, okay," Harry gasped. :You got me. Deal."

Nick kissed Harry hard, and lingered. But his cock was beginning to ache from the roller coaster of stimulation, so he reneged on his word. A little.

"Let's duck out early," Nick whispered.

"Yeah?"

Nick nodded.

"What shall we tell them?"

"A Radio 1 meeting I forgot about?"

"Okay," Harry said.

They walked out hand-in-hand, and Nick knew that could be misconstrued, given the context, but he simply couldn't be arsed anymore.

\--

Nick and Harry had a secret spy signal and everything, to be used for when the dessert menu arrived, but Gwen and Gavin seemed to have beat them to it. Gwen was quite apologetic when she said there had been some urgent matter with the babysitter, but Nick couldn't help but wonder if they'd had the same idea.

Nick and Harry were sent back in the car with Daisy, whose flat was on the way to theirs.

With the unabashed glee of experience, and the promise of expensive liquor, Daisy raided the car fridge, and handed them both a small bottle of champagne. She took one for herself as well.

"We didn't take any on the way, because we didn't know if it would be stealing or not," Harry said.

"Oh, bah," Daisy sputtered. "That's what it's there for. They're mad generous, too."

"Harry wanted to be on the safe side." Nick nudged him. "My moral compass over here."

"Bugger off."

Harry took a drag from the bottle.

"Probably would have made the ride more fun, though," Daisy said, with a salacious raise of her eyebrows.

"We were plenty occupied," Harry said.

"I'm sure you were."

"Harry told me a bunch of wicked stories from tour, actually," Nick said.

"You wasted a chance to shag? In a car like this?" Daisy gasped.

"I know, I know."

"I expect better from you, Nicholas Grimshaw."

"I am a disappointment." Nick hung his head for added effect.

"Damn right," Daisy said, pointing at him with the neck of her bottle.

"You _should_ be ashamed," Harry said. "We haven't had sex in a _month_ ," He informed Daisy.

"Oh, how dreadful." Daisy sounded truly sympathetic. "Wait -- so there was no hanky panky in the fancy loo either?"

"No!" Harry practically moaned.

"What is _becoming_ of you? Is Harry civilising you in social norms?" Daisy sounded almost suspicious.

"That's the worst part, he's civilising him _self._ It isn't even me," Harry said.

"Hello? I'm sitting right here," Nick said.

"Oh, hi. Didn't see you there," Daisy teased, reaching over Nick to clink her bottle with Harry's.

"How did you know about the loo?" Nick asked.

" _Please._ You were being pretty blatant, with your little _sounds_ and your long trip to the _loo_ , and coming back all giggly and cuddly. But I guess I was a bit wrong, wasn't I?"

"Do you think your, uh -- Gav, and Gwen thought anything of it?" Nick still wasn't sure what to call Gavin.

"Doubt it. They're so in love it's sickening." Daisy grinned. "I'm sure you noticed. Like -- they've known each other for so many years and it's as if nothing's changed. Don't know how they do it."

"Are you a bit bitter, Daisy-Mae?" Nick asked, chucking her affectionately under the chin.

"Just felt a fifth wheel some of the time, that's all."

Nick put his arm around her.

"Of course you weren't. If anyone was a fifth wheel, it was Harry." Nick said, cheeky.

Harry grabbed Nick's bottle from in between his knees, as retribution.

"And on our left we have a most dangerous creature: the pop star with his very bubbly weapon of choice." Nick said, giggling and snatching it back from him.

Harry opened his mouth to say something and then decided that breathing in Nick's face was a better course of action. Nick _hated_ that.

"You're an arse!" Nick shoved him a bit.

"Catfight!" Daisy bellowed. "Oh, wait, no, no. Scratch that. With you two, it'll probably turn into a snogfest. Break it up, boys."

They pulled apart, mock-huffy. 

"You know," Daisy leaned back. "I really don't relish going out. I usually try and avoid it if I can. But I thought this was wonderful."

"Yeah, me -- me too." Nick said, settling back down, hands tucked between his knees. He noticed that all of their bottles were approaching empty.

"It meant a lot that they asked us to come out with them. They're like -- they're what I want me and Nick to be, I think. In the future. They make me believe that it can be done. That maybe we can have that," Harry said.

"Oh, Harry. You are a darling," Daisy said, smiling.  

"He really is,” Nick said.

Daisy flapped her arm in Harry's general direction.

"Pinch his cheek for me, will you? I can't reach." She laughed.

Nick pinched both of Harry's cheeks, and they made smushed-up faces at each other.

"I kind of just love when you say anything," Nick said, giggling. The champagne was starting to hit him, in a good way. "Dumb things. _Daft_ things. Long stories. Meal orders. Newspaper headlines. Everything."

Harry let out the most earnest _awwww_ Nick had ever heard -- except from Daisy, to be fair -- and leaned toward Nick to kiss him. It was a bit sloppy, but Nick figured at this stage in the evening, he wasn't really at a place to judge.

Harry settled his head down on Nick's shoulder and then proceeded to fall asleep in about thirty seconds.

Nick and Daisy gossiped about celebrities they'd gawked at in dinners past. When they reached Nick and Harry's flat, Nick had to shake Harry awake, and pull him up. Such a lightweight.

Daisy kissed them both on the cheek before they got out.

"We _will_ make PJ party plans, Grimshaw, so stop screening my calls!"

"One day, one day," Nick said, stepping out of the car.

"Tomorrow!" Daisy called.

It was if that kissing had triggered something in Harry's head. Perhaps a neon sign started blinking SEX in bright red, because Harry started kissing Nick, tongues and everything, right there on the curb.

Nick pulled away, so he could explain to Daisy.

"He's been shite with modulating tonight," Nick said.

Daisy winked, waving goodbye from the open window.

"Or I've been really good at it," Harry mumbled.  

"Too good, I reckon."

Harry just grinned.

\--

They stumbled into the lift, holding hands and fumbling for their floor before Harry pushed Nick against the rail of the lift wall and kissed him, open-mouthed. Nick held the small of his back, pressed Harry against him. Jesus Christ, Harry was hard as hell. Nick was, too. Fucking dizzy with it.

They stopped kissing long enough to unlock the door, but barely. Thank god Harry had remembered to close the door before he pressed himself back against Nick; the neighbors would have gotten quite a show otherwise. Harry's bum had looked so good in those trousers, and Nick appreciated it anew as he touched it, squeezing through Harry's jeans. Harry's barely-there fingernails dug into the back of Nick's neck, and he wanted to tell Harry how divine that felt, but he couldn't find the words. So he kept kissing him, nipping at Harry’s plush lower lip to coax out that smile Nick knew was just for him.

"M'hot," Harry said suddenly, with a bit of a drunken huff, pulling away. He tugged at his jacket, dropping it in a pile on the floor, despite the fact that it cost as much as everything Nick was wearing put together. He was trying to get naked, fast, so Nick figured he might as well sit down and watch. Next was the shirt, and there weren't many buttons left anyway; Harry relished any opportunity to show off his tattoos, and Nick totally fucking supported him in that. And then came the jeans, and Harry started stumbling as he tried to yank them over his shoes.

Nick nearly fell over laughing.

"Harry, love, you've got to take off your shoes first," Nick said, in between whooping and clapping.

In all fairness, Nick had needed the reminder as well, pulling off his dress shoes with clumsy hands.

Harry hopped around, as if he could make the pants fit over the shoes by sheer force of will. He had a quite determined look on his face. After a moment more, Harry did admit defeat, sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa and toeing his shoes off. He made a dumb face at Nick as he stripped off his jeans, and Nick's face probably looked pretty dumb as well, drinking in Harry in just his black briefs.

But "no thong tonight?" was what spilled from Nick's lips, and he was almost ready to apologize for that when Harry marched over and straddled him.

It felt spectacular, Harry grinding against him as Nick admired his neck and clavicle. Harry was fucking good at this, holding Nick's shoulders to keep steady.

"Wanna see your face more," Nick said.

Harry shifted so he was facing Nick, kissing him hard in rhythm with his hips. His mouth tasted like brilliant dark wine and rich sauces, like smoky meat and lust.

When Harry pulled away, Nick could see everything: feathery lashes over closed eyes, the clenches in Harry's sharp jaw before he let out each breathy sigh, the ever-present quirk of his lips.

The whole world was watching his boyfriend, yet he was the only one who got to see this.

"Rock me, yeah yeah," Nick said, pressing his hands harder into Harry's sides in an attempt to bring him even closer. Harry rolled his hips in the way that only sexy lithe popstars could, and Nick wondered how he got so lucky.

Harry was biting at his earlobe, mumbling "yeah, yeah, mm, fuck yeah," and Nick was pretty sure he was going to come in about two seconds when all of a sudden, Harry stopped. Nick couldn't hold back a whine.

Harry brought one slim leg down to the floor and slid down to sit in between Nick's legs.

Nick said something unintelligible, a cross between "what are you doing", and "why did you stop".

Harry seemed to get it, though, patting Nick's thigh and saying, "Got to get you undressed. S'only fair."

Harry went for the jacket first, sliding it down Nick's shoulders and placing it on the table. Harry reached up for Nick's shirt, undoing all the buttons with nimble fingers. Nick couldn't tell if Harry was very coordinated, or just a fuckton less drunk than he was. But he wasn't concerned about anything once Harry tossed away the shirt. He kissed up and down Nick's ribcage, nipping at the bit of pudge over Nick's belt, and Nick thought, _I am dating a literal angel._

Harry had some difficulty with the belt, but managed to get it loose without cursing too much, so Nick was kind of impressed. And then Harry put his hands on Nick's thighs, mouthing at Nick's erection through his trousers.

Nick gasped at the sight of Harry bent before him like that, like Nick was the only thing that mattered.

There was a sweet heat to Harry's breath, and Nick was glad Harry was holding his legs down, or else he would have canted his hips for more pressure.

Nick made a needy noise, and Harry obliged him, reaching for his zipper.

"No, wait." Nick stammered. "Trousers off. Keep the pants on."

Harry did as he was told, and Nick shifted up to help him slide off the fancy trousers. Harry folded these and put them behind him. _Literal angel._ He looked up at Nick with his jade-eyed stare, as if waiting for instruction.

"Tell me how much you want it," Nick said, voice husky. Nick put his hands over Harry's in case Harry tried to find a loophole, like palming Nick through his pants with Nick too weak to resist. Which could have happened, okay. Harry was quite crafty.

Harry looked up at him, running his teeth along his lower lip again and again as he was thinking. When he spoke, it was deliberate.

"Want to suck you off hard and fast. Want your hands in my hair. Want my mouth stretched around that cock of yours till it's all I can think about. Want you to come fucking my mouth, saying my name."

From that first sentence onward, Nick's thoughts were past coherency. His cock was fucking throbbing. _God, Harry._ Everything Nick wanted to say fizzled into static. Instead of talking, Nick handed Harry a pillow to put under his knees, and let Harry slide off his pants.

Harry squeezed Nick's calves appreciatively.

Then Harry licked his goddamn lips, lapped a wet stripe up Nick's cock from base to head. Nick shivered.

Harry brought new volumes to the term going down, taking it all in, eyes shut and mouth obscene. Those fucking vocal exercises. Ten seconds and Nick was already moaning, the sound rattling from his throat.

Harry retreated a little, taking Nick's cock in halfway and then lingering at the top, sucking the head with these ridiculously hot noises. Nick groaned and tipped his head back, hot pleasure curling in his stomach. Harry'd already had him on edge with the grinding and the dirty talk, with the entire evening. There was no way he would last long with any more of this.

Nick put one hand on Harry's warm shoulder and threaded the other loosely in his hair. Harry moaned as Nick pushed his head down, the tremors startling Nick so much that he released his grasp and cursed. Nick always forgot how great that felt, how much of a turn-on Harry's eagerness was.

Harry nudged Nick's damp palm with the crown of his head, and Nick put his hand back, fingers holding more tightly. He was breathing hard. 

Harry ran his tongue flat and wet over his palm and curled his hand around Nick's cock.

"God, fuck," Nick gasped. Harry was applying perfect pressure with his thumb as he stroked, rubbing just the right spot. "Yeah, yeah."

Harry put his mouth back on Nick's cock, and the combination of the suction and motion made Nick writhe. Harry knew just how to work him, stroking fast and sucking hard.

Heat rushed to Nick's face as he bucked his hips, holding Harry still against him. Nick didn't really hear the noises he was making as he thrust into Harry's mouth, but he was sure they were loud and filthy, as his whole body tensed and contracted inward so it could expand out toward the universe. It felt like there was a planet contained in Nick's shaking body, a galaxy in the heat of Harry's mouth, an entire universe in the pleasure that overtook him.

He wasn't holding Harry anymore, but Harry stayed till Nick went still. Nick's pulse was hammering, his vision blurry. It took him a minute for him to realise Harry had one of Nick's hands in both of his, was giving Nick that look like he was a treasure. _Harry_ was the treasure. Harry was a fucking gift to humankind.

"God, I've missed you." Nick said.

Harry didn't say anything, just looked down and kissed Nick's fingers.  

"Bedroom, yeah??" Harry asked.

Nick nodded so fast that Harry laughed.

"You are just too much," Harry said, grinning.

Harry got to his feet and leaned over to kiss Nick. He made a noise against Nick's mouth when Nick pressed his tongue against the seam of his lips.

"I'm serious. Don't distract me. Bedroom, now."

Harry grabbed Nick's hand and pulled him up. Nick was unsteady on his feet, and Harry wrapped an arm around the small of his back as he led Nick to the bedroom.

"What would I do without you." Nick grabbed hold of the dresser edge when Harry let go of him.

"Prob'ly fall an' break your head." Harry shrugged, smiled smug.

"On your back now, Styles."

"Is that an order?"

"Of course it's an order." Nick couldn't keep a straight face, felt his mouth spread into a grin. "I'm still serious, okay," he mumbled.

Harry made a show of laying back on the bed, edging back toward their pillows. He was in the middle, more toward his side of the bed, and that made something in Nick's chest stir with happiness. Harry was back.

When Nick laid down next to Harry, he wanted to pass out. His body felt leaden. But he was far from finished.

Nick leaned over and untied Harry's scarf. He did a sloppy job of retying the bandana over Harry's eyes.

"I can still see..." Harry was grinning, big and goofy.

"Then close your eyes, dummy."

Harry stuck out his pretty pink tongue. Nick stretched out over him, nipping at the pulse point of his neck. He nuzzled down Harry's warm taut skin to lave at his navel.

"Mm," Harry breathed, squirming a little. Nick was too impatient to linger anywhere, and he pulled down Harry's briefs with eagerness. In the fancy loo at the restaurant, Nick had, with no shame, eyed Harry's dick hard in his jeans. And here it was now, in its full glory.

"Did you just gasp?"

"I'm not gasping, you're gasping, smartie." Nick lied, taking Harry's cock in his mouth, and damn if that didn't shut him right up.

Nick groaned around it, the vibrations making Harry curse. God, Nick had missed this, too. The musk and salt of him, the way he had to work to fit his mouth around Harry's cock.

Usually they had music on -- The Neighborhood, 1975, Rihanna, even some Beyonce' if Nick could convince Harry -- but that night, it was just focus and silence and need. Harry's thighs gripped under Nick's palms, Nick's mouth slippery and hot on Harry's cock. The static of Harry's back against the bedsheets as he shifted, arched, deeper into Nick's mouth. As deep as he could. The slick of Nick's hand as he worked up and down Harry's cock in rhythm with his mouth. Harry's breath in starts and stops, in catches in his throat and gasped noises from his mouth.

As frantic as Harry's sounds were, they were quiet, which wasn't typical Harry. But Nick knew that sometimes Harry had to readjust after being away for awhile, after being such a presence onstage, after broadcasting himself to the world. Sometimes Harry got stuck in the other end of that spectrum of sound and sensation, recalling all the times he'd had to wank fast and quiet in hotel showers and tour buses. Like he was a teenager still at home and his parents could walk in at any moment.

"Hazza, love, it's just us. You can get as loud as you want." Nick looked up and Harry was nodding, letting out a deep breath that turned shaky at the end. Sweat was glistening in the hollow of his throat.

Nick took him in again, so deep it triggered his gag reflex, and saliva rushed to his tongue. He closed his eyes as he bobbed steady and slow. Harry was grasping at the sheets, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Nick, agh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Harry groaned. Nick brought his hand back in, stimulating what he couldn't reach with his mouth, adding a twist every so often because he knew that made Harry go mad.

"Yeah, yeah, _oh_ , yeah, oh God -- God, yeah, yeah, like that, just like that --" Harry was panting, almost shaking.

Nick kept it up, kept it steady, knew Harry liked it fast after a while. The corners of Nick's mouth turned up at the end; Harry was strung-out.

Harry's chest forced out fast shallow breaths, and he reached down for Nick's hair. Nick shifted a bit to meet Harry's hand. Harry's fingers curled tight in Nick's hair and tugged; Nick flushed with pleasure at the wonderful sting. Harry was pulling Nick away, so that Nick would pull back harder, back down to Harry's cock.

But first. Nick went lower, running his tongue along Harry's swollen testicles and the base of Harry's cock. He licked along the underside, caressing Harry's testicles with slick fingers.

Harry moaned with so much urgency that Nick wondered if he could get Harry off just from that.

"Up, up," Harry murmured, before Nick had the chance to find out. The ridges and veins felt spectacular against the flat of Nick's tongue as he sucked on the head of Harry's cock. Harry whimpered, made sounds that bled together in his desperation. Nick dipped lower, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing up and down fast and dirty.

"Grimmy, yeah, yeah, oh, Grim - m'close, m'close --"

When Nick began to stroke his cock again, Harry let go of Nick's hair, let go of everything as he shuddered through his orgasm, making sounds like violent beautiful sobs. Harry rode out the aftershocks in his same desperate way, tilting his hips toward Nick's mouth.

"Good, m'good," Harry sighed once he was spent, patting Nick's head.

Nick laid on the pillow beside Harry, panting. He was out of breath, feeling like he had come all over again just from watching Harry.

"Can you take off the bandana now?" Harry's voice was rough.

"No, never. Never ever." Nick grinned.

"Please?"

"Oh, if I must, my love."

Harry's hair was a nest of curls, soaked where it met his neck. Nick reached over and untied the bandana, put it on the bed beside them. Harry's pupils were dark and full, irises impossibly green and lovely as always.

Harry leaned forward and kissed Nick flush on the mouth.

"Next time you have to wear the bandana," Harry said, poking Nick in the chest.

"You'll need to wrestle it on me," Nick said, grinning.

"I can take you. If I can take Liam, I can take you."

"Keep dreaming, mate. You vastly under-restermate me. And my muscles. I've been working out."

Harry tilted his head.

"You're still drunk? You don't usually make up words unless you're quite plastered."

"Well drunk, I think. Not sure if it's from wine or from you, though, to be honest."

"That's a pretty alright thing to be confused about," Harry said, laying his arm across Nick's middle.

"I think so, too," Nick said, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and hugs to my friend Julija, who has been supporting me in my writing endeavors for years, and barely blinked when I told her I was going to branch out into One Direction fandom. Since then, she has begun having Grimmy feels with me, and was totally game for beta-ing this, because she is amazing. 
> 
> Huge thanks to my partner, who gushed with me about this fic pretty much every day, and demanded that I read the sex scenes over the phone. (That, oddly enough, was helpful for my writing process. And a big confidence boost. Love you hella, babes.) 
> 
> I have been filled with nothing but positive feelings ever since joining the One Direction fandom. I feel like it has provided me with a sense of comfort, a security blanket and an anchor. This story came together surprisingly quickly, much moreso than anything I have ever written. The pieces just clicked together, in that rare, elusive way. I feel wonderful about this being my first work in the fandom. Cheers to many more!


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